


Chandelier

by worstcommander



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 08:59:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13609980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstcommander/pseuds/worstcommander
Summary: When they'd first arrived, she'd craned her neck to stare at the mirrored ceiling of the room and wondered why anyone, even an Orlesian, would go to such an expense.





	Chandelier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [commanderlurker (honeybee592)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee592/gifts).



When they'd first arrived in the suite of rooms set aside for the Inquisitor and her bodyguard -

(Well, no, that's not how he'd said it. That weaselly little man had curled his lip so far that it had practically rolled up and scurried away from his face. "Your _bodyguard_ ," he'd sneered, and Bull just smiled widely, blankly, and walked past him into the room. Grace has never liked that smile. He'd worn it all that night, too, as the ball swirled around him and the whispers weren't so much whispered as said, right to his face, like he couldn't speak Trade. Even after they'd watched him cleave the Lady Florienne in half. With an axe.)

When they'd first arrived, she'd craned her neck to stare at the mirrored ceiling of the room and wondered why anyone, even an Orlesian, would go to such an expense. Surely it must gather dust quite frightfully, and in Grace's view, nothing good can come of spiders that finally know how they look.

"Oh, that's... you're going to love this, _kadan_."

Bull had tipped his head too, and this time there was another grin. The one she likes, goes right down to the smalls. She'd not had the opportunity to ask, then, what exactly he'd thought at the first sight,

(It probably wasn't the same thing with the spiders,)

and they'd been too busy soon enough, politics and dancing and quite a few more demons than she'd ever slain at a ball back home in Ostwick.

Now, she only wonders how he'd managed to light this many candles in between all that demon slaying.

It isn't a mirror anymore, not the way she's looking at it. As she floats she can see herself below, hazy in the soft light, her back arched, her breasts upturned. Each tiny light flickers, painting across her skin in a shifting sea of small shadows.

He suspends the crystals from her nipples, the delicate chain draping between them, heavier than it seems it should be but not as heavy as she is in this moment. His back is broad, hatched in scars, obscuring and then revealing as he leans back to admire his handiwork.

She watches herself glitter as she hangs above him.


End file.
